


One ticket to Chick-Flick Land, please

by SPNHP



Series: Brothers, through it all [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Parent John Winchester, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Clingy Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Older Sibling Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Jessica Moore - Freeform, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Non-Consensual Possession, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Pining Sam Winchester, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Possession, Post-Possession, Protective Dean Winchester, Sharing a Bed, Suicidal Thoughts, Thoughts of incest, Unrequited Love, Victim Blaming, Violence, and abuse, and before Mary comes back, and maybe about Dean, but post demon dean, discussions of neglect, his time in the cage, if you catch that, not set in an specific season, or not so platonic, the rape/non-on tag is both about sam's posessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-21 20:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12465336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPNHP/pseuds/SPNHP
Summary: "I know you'd die for me. But dying is easy. Would you live for me, instead?"Sam and Dean Winchester. Hunters. Killers. Heroes. Brothers. And owners of a love towards each other that breaks all barriers, including time, fate, distance, and death. But they seem stuck on a vcious cycle of not being able to act on those feelings. Maybe it's time for them to realize that the only thing that can fx or break their brotherly bond is themselves, and take action.





	1. It makes you live so it's worth dying for

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes about this story: As of when I started writing the first chapter, I hadn’t watched past the first few episodes of season 10, but knew the brunt of what happened next (Don’t worry, I’ll catch up, just rewatching it all because why not?). It’s the first in a series that’ll basically be loads upon loads of hurt/comfort, brother bonding, and maybe Wincest later on? The characters are kinda OOC because Winchesters? Talking about feelings? Nah. But brother bonding, happy!boys and hurt/comfort are the life of me, and I swear I tried to keep everything else as close to their personalities as possible. Please warm me about any errors you might find! Each chapter/story in the series will have their own warnings, so please check those out.
> 
> About this chapter: This is meant to be loosely before Mary comes back, and is mostly Sam’s POV. Sam is a ball of angst and self hatred, and both of them need to love themselves a lot more, but that’s all canon so what can I do? Also, I don’t agree with everything Sam says and thinks in this, nor do I blame him for every wrong thing in the show, but it’s his point of view and this is what I imagine goes on inside his head.  
> Just a heads-up: I don’t agree with what Dean did, or with the cheer amount of victim blaming, regarding the whole Gadreel situation. He’s my fave, but I just wanted to shake him back into something resembling sense when that particular arc appeared. It was a selfish, impulsive, horrible thing to do, even more so considering Sam’s historic, and I believe Sam was entitled to feeling and reacting the way he did. However, this, again, is Sam’s POV, and they both have a tendency to blame themselves for things that absolutely weren’t their faults, and forgive each other for their screw-ups. Dean does acknowledge his errors regarding that situation.  
> Warnings: Mentions of John’s canonical neglect and abuse (not graphic or in detail/depth); language (not extreme, about the same level as the show); discussion of situations that allude to rape/non-con//have rape/non-con undertones (namely, Sam’s possessions), and hints of incestuous thoughts (no actual incest).  
> Enjoy!

“Dean?” Sam opens the door to his brother’s room, just enough to look inside and see that Dean is currently sitting on the bed, headphones on, head tilted back against the headboard, oblivious to the world. His courage immediately disappears, and he’s about to chicken out for the third time that day, when his brother’s green eyes lock with his own, and he’s trapped there. Dean shuts the music off and motions for him to come in.

 

“Heya Sam, whatcha need?” Concern masked by a sheer layer of playfulness. Typical.

_To be ‘Sammy’ again_ is what he thinks, but what comes out of his mouth is “Can we talk?”

 

“Sure” Dean folds his legs, leaving him enough space to sit on the opposite end of the bed, and Sam can’t help but feel bitter that a while ago (maybe a lifetime) he’d have simply plunked right besides his brother, maybe even rested his head on his shoulder or put his feet on his lap to annoy him. _I’m here to fix that._ He can only hope he can.

 

The taller Winchester lowers himself on the bed, trying to think of the perfect words to express what’d been eating at him for so long he isn’t sure when it started. He could pinpoint it to Gadreel, sure, but that’d be only a half-truth. He and his brother had been hurting each other for a long time before the treacherous Angel came around, even if that had almost been what made them come undone.

 

His eyes bore into Dean’s green ones, the feature waitresses, monsters, demons, hunters and everything in-between had never failed to comment on or swoon over, the feature Sam loved the most about him. The crinkles by them are deeper than ever, but what lands the killing blow to Sam is how closed off they are. If before he could read them like open books, now they’re calm masks, and that thought makes his breath catch.

 

He knows he’s staring, he knows he’s probably looking pale and sickly and he knows he’s worrying his brother. Dean’s eyes are now baring their concern without pretense, and he can’t help but feel as if it is all his fault. Dean had bent over backwards to give him a childhood, a life, happiness, safety, and had gone to hell for him and had forgiven him over and over again, and he’d been the one to push him off when they were kids, directing his anger towards the wrong person (the one who was there); he’d been the one to end up falling in love with his own brother (at least that Dean was unaware of); he’d been the one to run off to college and refuse to talk to his brother when he’ reached out; he’d been the one to not look for Dean when he was in purgatory, he’d been the one to fuck up time after time; and his brother still kept on loving him, and then Dean goes and makes one mistake to save his life and Sam’s pushing him away and _oh God, Dean, I’m so sorry._

 

He’s crying now, not sure when he started, in big ugly sobs and, not for the first time, Sam envies Dean’s ability to be graceful even with tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s never quite managed the same feat, and knows his face is already red and puffy and feels the headache that’ll come later. His big brother seems too shocked to react, and where there would have been a hug there seems to be an invisible wall, made of _“I don’t want to be brothers anymore”_ and miscommunication and lack of communication altogether and so many other hurts and how is he going to fix this?

 

“I’m sorry” His voice is hoarse and manages to break over such a short sentence, leaving an even more confused Dean in its wake “I’m sorry for how I reacted with Gadreel, I’m sorry for Benny, I’m sorry for not looking for you in Purgatory, I’m sorry for Ruby, I’m sorry for Stamford, I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you and for pushing you away when we were younger and for being an ungrateful brat and for being a burden and for fucking up so much and for not being the brother you deserve, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Dean, fuck, I’m so sorry…” He keeps repeating the words like a mantra, like they can actually fix everything, but he knows they can’t, and his lungs hurt and he’s taking up more air than he deserves and at the same time not nearly enough and he’s a mess and he’s probably hurting Dean even more by bringing all of this up an why can’t he stop hurting his brother what’s wrong with him why didn’t Dean let him die why is Dean trying to comfort him…

 

Trying to comfort him?

 

His eyes snap open, and all he can see is the fabric of Dean’s shirt, an old grey thing he used to steal all the time. Dean had half stood up on the bed and pulled his head towards his stomach, his hands playing with his long hair in an age-old and yet brand new display of affection and comfort, babbling about nothing and everything, his tone more meant to sooth than his words, and it was a moment so theirs, so full of love and care and brotherhood, that Sam dared hope he hasn’t fucked up so completely they couldn’t bounce back.

 

Eventually, the tears dry, and Dean lets go, but keeps one hand on his shoulder, as if afraid Sam is going to bolt or pull back if he’s not within arm’s reach.

 

“Sam” It still hurts, the way his name rolls out of his Dean’s tongue, and he hates every time he told his brother to call him that, but the tone is a promise that his long-ago ~~(never)~~ hated nickname might make a apparition by this afternoon “Sam, Jesus, what are you even thinking? What’s that about not being the brother I deserve, about being a burden or an ungrateful brat? You’re not that, how could you think you were?” He puts a finger under Sam’s chin, makes his brother look at him, and hates the pain and confusion and the cry for help in his eyes, and hates knowing he’s the reason behind a good chunk of it. He hates the words that come out of Sam’s mouth next even more.

 

“I’m the reason you didn’t have a childhood, Dean. I’m the reason you went to hell and the reason you got out of Lisa’s life and the reason behind pretty much everything wrong with your life. Hell, I’m the reason you don’t have a mother, why you had a piss poor excuse of a father…” He kinda expects Dean to punch him for that, kinda hopes he does, so seeing his brother slowly lower himself ‘till they are face-to-face is a surprise.

 

“Sammy” Feels like the most bittersweet victory and cheapest consolation prize, a last meal to a death-row prisoner, but also feels like home and warmth and he’s freezing an homesick and starved for this, and he’ll take whatever he can get “I want you to listen very carefully, because I suck with words and because this shit is important, got it?” Dean’s expecting a nod, so that’s what Sam gives him, confused and scared but a primal part of him having to believe big brother’s gonna make it all alright “Good. Look, Sam, mom made a deal, she knew what was out there and she knew what was coming for her, and you were just a baby. Heaven and Hell played our entire frigging family to get what they wanted, so don’t come at me with this bullshit that mom dying was your fault, coz it wasn’t, ya hear me? Neither was dad. He chose to be a hunter and a drill sergeant because being a dad and a widower hurt too much, and we got the short end of the stick for it. He could have stayed home, he could have protected and trained us without forgetting how to be a father, but he didn’t and that was on him, you hear me? And yeah, I went to hell for you, I had to give up some stuff to try and get you to have a slightly better childhood than mine, but those were my choices, and would do it again, because you’re my little brother and you’re the most important person in the world for me, and I don’t regret it, ok?” He pauses there, to catch his breath, to gather courage because everyone, from Cassie to Bobby to Crowley, was right and this is emotional vulnerability and he feels exposed and over-sensitive, and his instinct is to bolt out of the door but this is Sammy and he needs it (maybe both of them do), so he soldiers on.

 

“You weren’t ungrateful or a brat or a burden, you were a kid and kids are a self-absorbed little shits and I was glad I could let you have that, ok? You didn’t ruin my life, Sam. You made it worth living. You make it worth, still.” Sam’s super glued to the mattress, wouldn’t be able to move if Lucifer himself stormed in to the room, and Dean knows he could leave it there, it’s more than he has given anyone in decades, maybe forever, and they could put a band-aid on it and gear up for the next apocalypse or boss fight or petty argument that breaks them all over again, but unsaid things and things that should have been left unsaid had gotten them there and he’s going to get that pain away from his baby brother’s eyes if it’s the last thing he does.

 

“Gadreel is not on you to apologize for, Sam, I was the one that screwed up, and I can never make up to you on this one. Ruby was a bad decision but you had your heart on the right place, and again, we were so caught up on the whole drama from Heaven and Hell that we let them separate us. I’d be a hypocrite for still being pissy for Benny, and I’ve forgiven you for Purgatory, I really have.” He runs a hand through his brother’s hair, and gathers his thoughts. “It hurt when you pushed me away, it hurt like hell, and I didn’t know what I had done wrong, but I get it now, I think. Dad made life a freaking battle field and I know I didn’t make it any easier, taking his side and all that, so you had to fight however you could, yeah? And since I was there, well, sucks to be me, hmm?” He manages to get a chuckle out of his brother with that, and it feels so much like he’s wining this thing, this apparently hopeless battle, that he manages to go on. “And freaking Stamford, Sam, it felt like you’d ripped my leg off, when you ran away, but how fucked up is it that you’re apologizing for getting a full ride to your dream school? I was so proud of you, really, I was, and I wanted to punch dad in the face for kicking you out like that.” A sad smile crosses his face, almost grim, making him look older than his near-forty body should allow “I just… Why didn’t you pick up the goddamn phone, ever, even if it was to tell me to fuck off?”

 

Sam shakes his head, shame burning at his gut, and he wants to shrug and recoil, but Dean is being honest, so freaking raw and wearing his heart on his sleeve like he hasn’t in decades, so he pours out one of the knots that had been at his throat for long and hopes it’s alright.

 

“I didn’t want to leave you guys, not completely, I was going to, you know, hunt with you on spring break and shit like that, use the library to do research, help you out with the legal stuff, you know? But then dad said so much shit and basically threw me out, and I know I hurt you with the shit _I_ said, and I was going to ask you to come with me, but I chickened out and was halfway out of the state before I had the time to regret that.” Dean’s lips almost form a smile, but they both know he’s not answered his question, so he continues “And I heard your messages and I knew you went to check on me, but I knew if I talked to you, I’d beg you to pick me up and take me back in, and I was too stubborn to do that, so I didn’t”. He’s flushed now, a little breathless, but the confession almost tastes like relief after all, so there’s that.

 

Dean actually smiles; a sad, grim quirk of his mouth, but it’s a smile, nonetheless.

 

“I hadn’t thought about it before, but I would’ve come with, if you’d asked, for what’s worth” It’s worth the freaking world, but that’d be too sappy and Sam’s pushing his luck with the chick flick moment, so he just smiles.

 

They sit in a comfortable silence (it’s almost weird that it’s true) for a while, but both know they just scratched the very tip of the iceberg, so Sam takes a deep breath and asks, his voice uncertain and he hates that, hates he’s got to the point he has to ask.

 

“Can we fix that, Dean? Us? Or try? Because, I don’t know if I can just keep going like this, having a huge fight, then a huge confession and then going on like nothing happened, we’re too dependent to let go of each other and I don’t want to let go, but if we have another one of those fallouts, that might just kill me, and I know this time it was my fault but…” He’s cut off by Dean raising his hand and if he says that no, they can’t be fixed, then forget another fallout, Sam’s going to eat a bullet as soon as he’s alone…

 

“Yes, Sam, we can fix us, or try, but hear me out, ok?” Sam’s probably seen Dean this intense less times than he’s seen him truly happy and carefree (which are already so freaking few and in-between), so he goes perfectly still and attentive. Den has to take a deep breath, self-hatred burning hot in his very soul, getting more intense the more his brother blames himself for his fuck up.

 

“That stuff with Gadreel? You had every right to be pissed off at me, Sam.” Dean wishes someone had told him he had the right to be pissed, but that was a long time ago.“To not want to be brothers anymore, to hate me, to shoot me if you wanted to. I’m never going to apologize for saving your life, can’t do it, even if it’s mostly because I’m selfish and can’t let go, but it’s also because you deserve better than what you’ve ever gotten and you sure deserve better than dying stabbed on the back or trying to save the world.” That is said with so much devotion and belief, it’s like they’re in that church again, heaven literally falling down but all that mattered was each other “But the stunt I pulled? Tricking you into being possessed and… Violated like that? Especially after what you went through with Meg, and Lucifer, and the cage, and Ruby? That was pretty high up on the list of dick moves I’ve done, even if he hadn’t turned out to be a back-stabbing scumbag.” His eyes go dark from the anger, and he seems too chocked up for a second, but Dean’s not done “Which, by the way, is on me, the whole shit-show with Kevin and Metradouche and everything else. I was selfish and impulsive and inconsiderate and I hurt you and a lot of other people because of it. So, yeah, Sammy, we can try and fix us, and I’m so fucking thankful you have it in you to forgive me, but don’t think that it was your fault ‘cause it wasn’t, none of it, ok?”

 

Sam goes even more still, because maybe he’d had those thoughts as well, but this is Dean, his macho-tough-as-nails-no-chick-flick-moments brother who doesn’t talk about shit like _trauma_ and _abuse_ and _violation_ , let alone acknowledge it… Or maybe he does, because he’s one traumatized and abused and violated soul as well, because through the claws of their emotionally stunned (stunning) father and upbringing, Dean had always tried to reach out in some way, because he’d really tried to give Sam what he hadn’t in the field of emotional support, because one of the reasons Sam loves (loved?) heart-to-hearts and feels (felt, definitely felt) comfortable talking about his feeling is because his big brother had never turned him away when he’d needed him as a kid, even if no one had been there for said big brother when he’d been the one in need.

 

The younger Winchester feels like exploding, because the only person who had always mattered and one of the last who still does has just given him a type of validation he’d craved desperately but had been too afraid to ask, because he feels lighter than he has in years (decades?) because now he knows they’d make it out okay (as okay as they’ll ever be) and he feels like laughing and crying, because they’re ridiculous and could’ve avoided so much shit if they’d just talked to each other, and he throws his arms around Dean’s neck, like he was just a little kid again (sue him, he deserves this) and breaths on his brother’s skin.

 

“Thank you. I forgive you. It’s ok. I forgave you a long time ago. I hated being apart, I hated saying we weren’t brothers anymore. But we’ll be ok. We’ll be ok” Again, he’s mumbling like a madman, but this time it’s hope, not despair, coloring his voice, and they have a shitty, long, possibly mentally scarring road in front of them, one that’s probably going to open certain wounds brutally (maybe they need to be opened to heal?) and it’s not going to be easy (when is it ever?), but as of right now, Dean’s arms are around him, in an actual hug that tastes like promises and love, and they’re brothers and Sam feels invincible for the first time in a long time, because it’s the two of them against the world and whatever else comes, and the Winchesters can achieve anything, if they stick together.

 

(And, if falling asleep just like that, all but cuddling, still holding on for dear life, provides the best night of sleep either brother is had in a long time, so be it).


	2. It makes you fly so it's worth drowing for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that makes the fic's name make sense! Basically, Sam realizes there's nothing Dean wouldn't do for him, even talking about subjects that hurt like a b***. Loads of schomp!

Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full eight hours of deep sleep, or had felt this comfortable and safe waking up, and for a brief moment, he wonders if a djin had gotten hold of him somehow, or if he died and there was a mix-up bad enough that he went to heaven. He wonders if Dean is going to try to save him again, and the self-depreciating voice inside his head is about to sneer that “not this time, kiddo” when he remembers where he is and how he got there.

He’d fallen asleep at some point last night, head still buried in his brother’s neck, too exhausted to even move, and Dean had maneuvered them into a lying position, half-buried below his not-so-little brother’s body. Sam’s face was currently resting on Dean’s chest, a hand fisted in his shirt, and he can’t help but wonder how much Dean is going to tease him for it when they are in a better space.

It’s a thrilling scenario, the one where they go through with their promises from yesterday and remind each other how to be brothers again. There’s always the possibility Dean is going to freak out and backtrack but Sam is not intent on letting him, not after both of them had bared their hearts and seen the same wounds mirrored on each other, and not after he’d realized the unflinching, world-moving, literally fate-altering love Dean holds for him is still showing through in his brother’s eyes.

He wonders if he really has to move and break the little fairytale moment, but his bladder is killing him, he needs his fix of coffee and they might love each other more than everything, but they’re still two grown-ass men in their thirties who’d grown up to believe affection between two men (even two brothers who’d die, kill and even live for each other) is an abomination  (unless the world is ending or had almost ended or one of them is back from the dead), so snuggling in bed could be pretty mortifying.

He removes himself from the cocoon of Dean’s arms, and cherishes the fact his brother’s still asleep, even if he stirs a little when the door opens. Sam wonders if he could get away with jumping up and down the bunker’s halls, decided he still has the tiniest shred of dignity to preserve even if no one is looking, and goes to take a shower (he doesn’t smile dumbly at the mirror when shaving, he _doesn’t_ ).

By the time he’s dressed and has the first step to his plan “BROTHERS AGAIN” clutched tight in his hand, Dean is already in the kitchen, and Sam feels a rush of affection when he sees the egg white, spinach and cheese omelet waiting for him by a mug of tea. For all of Dean’s bitching and teasing about his “rabbit food”, his brother had always tried to please him with his cooking, and even would go to the freaking farmer’s market to get him fresh produce. The affection is accompanied by delight when he sees what Dean is made for himself: Toast and eggs, no bacon or grease, and a cup of orange juice (he can only hope it’s not spiked). He knows Dean’s eating habits are deeper rooted than just pleasure in “good” food, but he’ll be dammed if he loses his brother to freaking cholesterol or cirrhosis. So he’d nagged until the older men had given in (he had a feeling the whole “we finally have a home” situation had helped as much as his best puppy eyes), and seeing Dean still doing good by his promise to be healthier (specially after the whole demon episode) had always felt like a victory.

Suddenly, he doesn’t really know what to say. Their talk had opened lots of doors, sure, but also lots of questions, and he’s not sure how much “touchy feely crap” Dean can handle in the period of two days before he snaps.

He’s saved from his dark musings by his brother’s “I can hear you overthinkng from here, Sam, and stop. We’re good, and I’m really set on making this work” which lifts his mood right back. He makes an impulse decision to give Dean a quick hug, like he’d do when they were younger to say good morning, and his rewarded by a playful hair mussing and his brother’s blinding smile, the one he still feels smug for usually being the cause of, one of the few genuine ones in Dean’s extensive repertoire. If Dean’s smirks gain his way into people’s bedrooms, that smile cold win anyone’s heart.

“Good thing then, because I have an idea that might just make you bail” He goes for playful and shoves the two rectangles of paper he had in his hand into Dean’s vision field, proudly noting his cheeks only burn a little, and waits for a reaction. He’s not disappointed.

“You get that from freaking Pinterest or something?” Dean must notice his word choice is weird by Sam’s raised eyebrows, because he adds “It has some great recipes and I bore easy.” Sam did get the idea from there, so he chooses not to comment. “Still, this is kinda… Cheesy? Sappy? Making an indentation in my masculinity?”

The masculinity-indenting thing he’s referring to is a “ticket to a chick-flick moment”, neatly printed to look like an actual movie ticket. Sam’s initial plan to get them to work on their issues was to shove that into Dean’s hands and then proceed to have a chick flick moment alright, but had decided he’d probably get a busted timpani from how loud his brother would laugh and had abandoned the idea. Still, it was a great solution to his dilemma of what was too much to ask when it came to dealing with their baggage, it contained an inside joke they both cherished, and was relatively easy to execute, so he held his ground.

“Your masculinity probably needs to be turned down a few notches anyways. But really, I know we don’t need written permission to talk, I want us to be able to talk about anything, anywhere, anytime, like we used to, without it being awkward, but I mean, we usually avoid getting into the stuff that actually matters or joke about it till it goes away, so when we feels like we need to get something off our chest or something, we can just give these to each other and talk, and actually be honest and everything. I know it’s silly but it works so…” Dean rolls his eyes, but tucks his ticked carefully in his pocket, so Sam beans at him and what the hell, it’s worth it.

“Okay, now let’s eat because I don’t know about you, but I’m freaking starving” He digs in to his plate, and Sam does the same, not being able to keep back a moan. The omelet is simple, but perfect. There’s just enough cheese to be chewy, but not overwhelming, and the tea is still warm.

“When did you learn to cook like this?” It had been after he’d gone back into hunting that he’d realized how much of his brother he had yet to discover, like his ease with kids and love for literature and fear of flying and ability to talk back to their dad, and, most recently, how he was a great cook. But, in between the world endings and the strains, he seldom had the chance to dig into those things, and now was determined to repair that.

“I always liked to cook, but it takes more time, money and good equipments to really make good food, which we usually didn’t have and now we do” He gestures to the kitchen, with the ovens (when had they had actual an oven and not just motel stoves?) and the huge fridge and refrigerator and the pots and pans and cookbooks, and Sam feels nostalgic and saddened all of the sudden. His brother was a freaking well of potential, with the amount of talent and charisma he possesses, and Sam wonders where he’d be without the pressure of the world being shoved into his shoulders from age four onwards ( _Without you,_ the little hateful voice inside his head musses). Probably a successful person with a brilliant career and a bright future, like Zachariah had shown them years before.

He ponders using his ticket now, but he really doesn’t want to cause a scene this early on, and the morning is nice enough he might manage to bully Dean into going jogging with him, so he smiles instead and announces:

“I’m glad we do, ‘cause this is freaking awesome”.

Dean’s answering smile is enough, for now.

_A few hours later…_

Sam knew he was ~~(acting like)~~ a lovesick idiot, but he couldn’t help the dumb smile that spread through his face every time he looked at his brother. It was silly, really; they weren’t doing anything besides watching a movie, sprawled out in Sam’s bed, but it was still closer than they had been in months, and he felt too energized to put a lid on his feelings. Besides, they were watching Harry Potter, which was always a mood booster.

“You’re a guy-version of Hermione, you know” Dean says as the second movie ends, standing up to put the third in.

Sam rolls his eyes and throws a pillow at his brother, but smiles. It’s the truth, an association he’d made himself, and Hermione is a badass, so it’s something to be proud of.

“Jess said the same thing, when we watched the first movie” And he immediately admonishes himself. He’s usually better controlled to not mention Stamford near Dean, who looks struck every time the subject comes up, but he’d been so relaxed and it was such a found memory…

“Really? What character was she?” Sam manages to not gape at his brother like a fish, but only barely, and realizes how hard he must be forcing himself to school his features into the neutral look he’s got. Wow. Dean’s really trying.

“Huh, I never really stopped to think about it, but I guess she’ a mix between Ginny and Luna” At the eldest’s confused look, he adds “Ginny’ll grow up pretty badass, and Luna shows up later. Jess was…” _Protective, beautiful, witty, smart, funny, stubborn, charming, a fucking perfect female version of you “_ … Strong, but so freaking sweet. She cared about people’s feelings but didn’t let their opinions about her put her down.” He’s a bit chocked up, and realizes it’s the first time he’s talked about her like this since the dammed fire. In between his own pain and confusion, Dean’s hurt about Stamford, and their lack of communication skills, the subject had been buried deep, and he smiles thinking of her sweet blue eyes and the music taste Dean would have approved of, of her acceptance and passion, of the only person he’d loved almost as much as his brother.

“She sounds pretty awesome, man.” Its Dean’s pat on the shoulder that makes the flood gates open. He regrets not telling Jess more about him when she’d asked, regrets the fact they never met, regrets how he never made it known she was indeed _pretty freaking awesome_.

“You’d have loved her” He can almost see it, what they could have had if he hadn’t been so stubborn: Dean coming by to visit because Sam had grown a pair and asked, and immediately adopting Jessica as his little sister, telling both her and Sam that if they break each other’ hearts he’d kick their asses, being best man at their wedding as much by Sam’s will as Jess’s, godfather to their kids, swinging by whenever he could and affectionately hugging Jess, Sam watching nearby, content with everyone he loved around him. His chest aches. “And she’d have loved you” She’d have adored him, they’d have screaming matches over the best bands, Jess would have probably even been able to get Dean to talk about his feelings in the way she’d done to Sam, and he could almost imagine her pout at the fact Dean’s cooking would always be better than hers. “I wish I’d had the spine to ask you to come visit me, at Stamford, I mean. Before… before everything.”

“So do I, Sammy.” Dean runs a hand through his hair, and takes a deep breath. “Why don’t you tell me about her? And your time in Stamford? I know I always get pissy when it comes up, but if we’re going to make this work, that sounds like a good thing to start on, hum?”

Sam shouldn’t be surprised. There are very few (probably none) things his brother wouldn’t do to him, but seeing him trying so hard still chokes him up, enough he almost can’t answer.

“We met in second year, because Brady wouldn’t shut up about her and how we’d make a perfect couple and we should totally meet, he ended up bringing her to the bookstore I was working at, at the time, said “You’ll thank me for it” and all but shoved her into the pile of books I was organizing.” He feels more than hears Dean’s found eye-roll, and goes on “He chose the worst possible day. I was a freaking mess, everyone was yelling, I was in my worst clothes, and couldn’t stop stammering. Thought she’d hate me or leave, but she waited till the end of my shift and asked “So, when are we going out?”” He cannot suppress the thought of how much of a Dean move that was, specially remembering the leather jacket she’d been wearing to shield herself from the cold November air, and her smug expression looking up at his gigantic frame “I was floored, so she scribbled a note with her phone number and name on my hand, we went out, she decided she liked me for some reason, and the rest is history.”

Dean laughs, actually laughs, tilts his head back and lets his eyes crinkle and Sam feels like a balloon is filling up inside him, but at the same time, talking about one of the loves of his life to the other is bringing up too much feelings, and Dean senses it, because he swiftly changes subjects.

“Of course you’d go and work in a bookstore, bet you read all their books in the first month, hum?”

Sam rolls his eyes at that, but blushes because it’s true, and questions:

“What did you do while I was at college? I mean, I know you were still hunting, but why were you going solo?”

Dean tenses a little, and weighs his words carefully.

“I had this pretty big fight with dad, couple months after you left, actually. I was still doing the jobs he sent my way, checking in every couple weeks or so, so we both knew the other was alive, but mostly we didn’t see each other unless it was necessary or we were both driving by Palo Alto at the same time.” Sam feels shocked that Dean had had a fight with their father, when normally he’d never even talk back; but then realization dawns on him: He’d been gone, so there was no one for Dean to play diplomat with.

“What was the fight about?” He knows he has pushed too far when he practically hears Dean’s walls coming up, shutting him out so effectively it’s almost comical.

“Just some minor stuff that we let snowball.” He shrugs, signaling “end of discussion” and turns around, fidgeting with the remote. Sam accepts the defeat and they spend the rest of the night watching the movie, exchanging stories and jokes and easy banter. But Sam had the subject noted down and knew it’d resurface at some point. For now, he’d just enjoy what he had, and they’d both pretend the movie night hadn’t just been an excuse to fall asleep together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!


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